


Eight Days a Week

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Clockblocking, M/M, Neighbors, yuri!!! on ice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8545753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Miyuki can't believe his cute neighbor is interested in him and his favorite show. However, time is hard to find when you live in very different worlds. Can Miyuki and Suga carve something out of the precious little time they can find to spend together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for #kazuyaweek on Tumblr. Each chapter will be for different days of the event. I was going to use the prompt list, but the story took its own direction and I had to opt out of the prompts.
> 
> Enjoy!

His bag hits the floor next to the door with a dull thud, and Miyuki Kazuya drops onto his couch with a long, appreciative sigh. “Oh, that is nice,” he hums as the overstuffed cushions envelop him and drag his tired eyelids down and down. But even as he forces them open once again before he falls asleep on the couch and regrets it in the morning, Miyuki groans and hoists himself up and drifts toward the kitchen. After a long trip back to Sendai from Yomiuri by bus, he is most definitely famished.

The bright light of the microwave clock blares into the darkened apartment, illuminated only by the spillover glow of the streetlamps outside his window, and it coaxes a smile from Miyuki as he realizes he has about twenty minutes to kill until his newest favorite television program starts. Humming a song he’s had stuck in his head since last week’s episode, Miyuki takes some leftover rice from the fridge and fashions himself some rice balls. Soon the humming morphs into words, and his soft, lilting voice trickles into the room and chases away the quiet of early morning. Not too loud; after all, it  _ is _ nearly half past two in the morning. But after long bus rides from road games, being awake at odd hours is part and parcel of Miyuki’s baseball life.

But he’s not ready to complain quite yet. Not when it allowed him to chance upon a gem of late night programming.

It’s ridiculous, really. Miyuki can’t say he really cares about ice skating, and the farther into the season the show goes, the more the animation quality diminishes, but that doesn’t deter him from the wordless awe with which he watches this particular anime. He had wondered at first why it had been relegated to the dead of night despite being a brand new show, but after catching up on the rest of the season online, it isn’t hard to see why. So he makes it a tradition to stay up far too late on one night of the week to take in his new favorite thing.

Yuri!!! on Ice is gay as hell, and Miyuki Kazuya is weak.

He remembers the way his breath caught in his chest after Yuuri’s Eros performance, the way he and Viktor look at each other at the end, and his heart beats a little faster and his voice grows a little stronger as he floats around the kitchen on a cloud of good cheer. He finishes up and heads for the couch again, but halfway through the trip, he stops when he hears another voice that isn’t his own finish the last few lines of the song that had died off on his own lips.

If Miyuki’s singing voice is nice, this man’s is  _ angelic _ .

Dropping his plate on the kotatsu, Miyuki rushes over to the half-open window and throws the curtains to the side. He glances down onto the sidewalk one floor below and catches sight of a silver-blond head of hair and the most arresting smile he’s ever seen. A smile that’s directed at him. Grinning, his silvery angel gives him a wave.

“Usually no one is up this late,” Miyuki comments as he takes in the rest of his new favorite stranger. A hooded sweatshirt rests over pale green scrubs, and a lanyard printed with cartoon volleyballs hangs from his pocket. “Nurse?”

The man’s eyes widen slightly at Miyuki’s observation before he nods. “Yeah. Just got off of a twelve hour shift.”

“Ouch.” Miyuki isn’t sure he could spend twelve hours at a time in the hospital. Too antiseptic for his taste. But when his belly rumbles in protest, an idea emerges. “Have you eaten yet?”

His nurse neighbor shakes his head, and Miyuki grins and says, “Wait right there.” He trots into the kitchen to grab a plastic storage container, takes three of the six rice balls he had made to put into it, and returns to the window. Holding it out of the window, he asks, “Can you catch it?”

“I can.” The man holds out his hands, and Miyuki carefully drops the container from his window and directly into waiting palms. He peels back the lid and groans at the sight of the rice balls. “Those smell amazing.” He replaces the lid and shoots Miyuki a curious look. “You probably could have put them in plastic wrap, though. No need to be missing a dish.”

A sly smile slashes across Miyuki’s face. “Maybe I want you to bring it back so I can see you again.”

His newest friend beams up at him from the sidewalk. “I see. But I don’t know your name, and you don’t know mine.”

“It’s Miy —” The rest of his surname halts on Miyuki’s tongue. While he doubts his beautiful neighbor is aware of who he is and that he’s a bit of a local celebrity as a player for the Eagles, he isn’t quite ready to test that theory. He would at least like to get to know this man first and have him know Miyuki before letting that fact slip. With a soft smile, he amends, “My name is Kazuya.”

“Kazuya? Already so familiar?”

Miyuki laughs, his voice carrying into the quiet night. “I already know what you do, what you like to eat, what you watch, and your favorite sport. It’s only fair.”

“How do you —” The man’s eyes widen as he reaches down to run his fingers along his lanyard. “You’re good at this.”

“Or maybe I’m just interested.” Miyuki crosses his arms and leans out the window. “So, do I get to know your name?”

“Suga,” he offers. “Well, it’s about two-thirty, so I should probably let you go.”

Miyuki has nearly forgotten his mission for the night and gives Suga a thumbs-up. “And Suga-chan is probably tired.”

On cue, Suga lets out a loud, drawn-out yawn. “You are not wrong there.” Cracking open the container and plucking out a rice ball, Suga takes a large bite, eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you, Kazuya-san. I’ll bring this back to you soon. You’re in 2C, right?”

“Right.” Miyuki waves and says, “Good night, Suga-chan.”

“Good night, Kazuya.” With that, Suga unlocks the building’s front door and disappears through it.

Walking backward from the window, still in slight disbelief that all of that had really happened, he drops heavily back onto the couch and turns on the tv. The opening is almost over, and Miyuki laments missing so much of it, but not nearly enough to regret a single second of conversation between himself and Suga. And as he settles in to indulge himself in food and ridiculous animated antics, he can’t help but look forward to seeing Suga on his doorstep soon, bearing a small lidded container and a smile that could make the sun cry from its brightness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Day 2 of Kazuya Week.

A week passes by in a flurry of games and batting practice, and Miyuki almost forgets about his chance encounter until he hears a knock on his door well past midnight. Shaken out of an unplanned doze, Miyuki vaults off the couch and heads to the door, shaking his head wondering who would show up at his door in the middle of the night that doesn’t at least call first. But when he opens the door to a smiling Suga holding out his forgotten dish, Miyuki’s grin spreads of its own accord as he steps aside and gestures for Suga to come in.

“I almost forgot about that,” Miyuki admits as he grabs the dead pile of dishes on the kotatsu and all but hurls them into the kitchen sink. “But it’s a good surprise.”

Suga chuckles as he toes off his shoes and sets the dish on the kotatsu. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. My mother just taught me never to return a dish without filling it with something homemade first.”

On his way back to the living room, Miyuki nearly trips over his own feet at Suga’s words. “You . . . made something for me?” He leans over the back of the couch to peer over Suga’s shoulder, and a grin wide enough to make his face hurt takes hold. “Forgive me if I don’t share. Those look delicious.”

“Knock yourself out,” Suga coos as he pats Miyuki’s cheek. He lists forward to pluck one of the cookies from the container and hands it to Miyuki. “For your consideration.”

Miyuki turns it and looks at it at every conceivable angle. He can smell the cream cheese filling in the center, and slices of strawberry poke out of the cookie’s soft, pale surface. Closing his eyes, he sinks his teeth in and doesn’t bother to hide his groan of pleasure as he tastes his very first strawberry cheesecake cookie. When his heavy eyelids manage to open after what he not-at-all-dramatically deems a religious experience, he sees that there are still about a dozen of these left in the bowl and sighs. “I’m going to gain a kilo from the sugar alone, and I’m not even sorry.”

Suga’s eyes widen as he whips his head around to gape at Miyuki. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think about whether you’re even allowed to have stuff like this.” His cheeks pinken as he hides his face behind his hand. “Of all people, I should really know better.”

Throwing his head back, Miyuki laughs until he slides to the floor wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Relax, Suga-chan,” he wheezes, smile never slipping. “I can eat anything I want. Just not too much.” He leans forward, pausing for a moment to give Suga a wink before plucking another cookie from the bowl. “Except for these. They’re unfairly good.”

“I’m glad you like them.” Suga reaches behind the couch, and the breath punches out of Miyuki’s chest when Suga drags him off the floor and deposits him into the empty spot next to him. “Now stop hiding from me so I can stare at you.”

Miyuki’s throat catches on an invisible obstacle, and he coughs while Suga chuckles. “Suga-chan is brazen,” Miyuki gasps, the burn of amusement coupled with surprise slowly eroding.

“It’s not that,” Suga says as he teases his bottom lip with his teeth. “You just look really familiar, and I can’t figure out where I could possibly have known you before. I just moved into this building a few weeks ago, and I don’t think I saw you at the laundry.”

Miyuki hides his shock by reaching another cookie. “Don’t see how,” he murmurs before nibbling mindlessly on the outer edges. He knows that Suga will eventually find out who he is and might not take kindly to any lies regarding it when he does; what he says now might determine whether Suga will want anything to do with him in the future.

Yet as he observes Suga’s puckered pout of concentration, sharp eyes determined as he peruses his face, Miyuki decides that Suga deserves to know his name, at least. Reaching out, he picks up Suga’s hand and shakes it. “Miyuki Kazuya.”

Suga’s eyes widen as his jaw drops. “Get out.”

“Well, it is  _ my  _ apartment,” Miyuki teases with a chuckle. His handshake morphs into a brief squeeze. “I am in your care, Suga-chan.”

Humming, Suga squeezes back. “I see why you didn’t give me your full name at first. But thank you for telling me.” Suga ducks his head and chortles. “Trying to figure out where I knew you from has been driving me nuts all week.”

Miyuki shrugs before reaching over to pluck another cookie from the bowl. “Can’t be too careful. I wasn’t at first, and someone started stealing my mail.” With a frown, he huffs a sigh. “That was a weird and kind of annoying month. I hope they enjoyed the finer details of my electric bill.”

Suga leans in and whispers in Miyuki’s ear, “Maybe they wanted to know where you get all your power.”

Laughter bubbles from Miyuki until tears roll down his face. “That — that is the best . . .” Wheezing, he leans over and drapes his head on Suga’s shoulder. “I hope you have more.”

A fist that feels like iron hammers into Miyuki’s bicep as Suga cackles. “You bet I do.”

Miyuki rubs the tender spot on his arm and doesn’t bother fighting off a wince. “You hit like a cleanup.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Suga tugs away and crosses his arms with a huff. “Some tough guy you are.”

Quirking a brow, Miyuki says, “Do I detect a challenge, Suga-chan?”

“Bring it, pretty boy.”

Suga squawks in alarm when Miyuki’s arm lashes out and hauls him facedown on the couch before perching himself on Suga’s backside, arms crossed. “I win,” Miyuki crows as he dodges Suga’s flailing limbs. He hears muffled sounds of protest which he can understand just fine, but with a smirk, he needles, “What was that, Suga-chan?”

There is a low hum, but slowly it swells to a howl, hitting a crescendo when Suga powers himself to his knees and, in one swift motion, returns the favor. Miyuki’s eyes water from the force of his whole body hitting the couch, with Suga sprawled out over him, elbows digging into Miyuki’s chest. “Not so fast, pretty boy.” He leans in close until his nose is almost close enough to touch Miyuki’s. Their breath mingles as Suga’s mouth pulls into a smirk. “You might be a pro athlete, but I really hate to lose.”

“Noted,” Miyuki murmurs as he looks up into Suga’s gloating face. In a whisper, he adds, “Suga-chan’s breath tastes like coffee.”

As Suga’s eyes widen in surprise, Miyuki takes the opportunity to wrest himself free and attacks Suga’s sides with his fingertips. A shriek of laughter pierces the quiet of the apartment, making Miyuki’s belly clench at the sound.

Suga’s laughter dies down as tears trickle down his cheeks, his eyes glinting merrily. “That — that was a dirty trick, Miyuki Kazuya,” he wheezes as he dashes away the twin tracks of moisture from his face. “I’m going to get you for that.”

Miyuki crosses his arms on Suga’s chest and raises a brow. “Oh? How are you going to do that, Suga-chan?” To punctuate his point, he leans forward, his face looming a hair’s breadth away from Suga’s. “I’m bigger than you.”

A smile spreads across Suga’s face. “You know what they say.”

“Oh?”

“The bigger they are —” Suga’s arms thrust upward and topple Miyuki roughly to the floor. He pokes his head over the edge of the couch, grinning at Miyuki’s gracelessly sprawled form. “— the harder they fall.”

Gaping up at Suga's amused face, Miyuki’s gut churns once again, and his breath bottles up in his chest. He watches Suga's expression morph from joviality to bemusement. “Are you all right? Did I drop you too hard?” Suga's teeth sink into his bottom lip as he sighs. “I didn't think. I --”

His self deprecating spiel is interrupted by Miyuki reaching up and dragging Suga down on top of him. Once again, he is close enough to taste Suga's breath, and Miyuki decides the higher reasoning part of his brain can take the night off. His fingers curl around the back if Suga's neck as Miyuki brings their lips together. 

Suga groans into his mouth as he leans his full body into the kiss. Enjoying this act of pure impulse far more than he had expected, Miyuki reaches down and cups Suga's bottom, hefting him up until Miyuki's mouth can trace its way down the graceful column of Suga's neck. Suga lolls his head to the side to afford a wider canvas, and Miyuki obliges. Nipping and sucking all the way down to Suga's collar bone, Miyuki leaves a line of blossoming purple love bites in his wake.

Miyuki relishes the sight of Suga above him, eyes screwed shut against the sensation as his hips roll against Miyuki's seemingly of their own accord. 

However, it all comes to an abrupt halt as Suga scrambles back into the couch, face flaming as he hides behind his knees. “You shouldn't have done that,” he whines into his trousers. “It isn't fair.”

Blinking in confusion, Miyuki tries and fails to discern the cause of Suga’s distress. With little other option, he admits, “I don't understand. Does that mean you're not --”

“Yes! I mean, no, you weren't wrong.” Suga huffs as he plops his chin on his knees. “I’m just not really in the market for any kind of new relationship right now. My schedule sucks, and I’m too tired when I get home to give someone else the attention they deserve.”

Suga doesn’t have to say any more than a handful of words for Miyuki to completely understand what he means. For eight months out of the year, he is all but unavailable. Days that aren’t spent at the ballpark for either games or practice are spent on the road for more games and practice. He doesn’t know how the guys on the team do it, with wives and kids at home; it’s enough of an accomplishment to even  _ meet _ someone. It’s the life he’s chosen and doesn’t regret it at all, but it isn’t much of a stretch to find his own story within that aching look in Suga’s eyes. “I know.” Miyuki says as he climbs onto the couch, burrowing his face into Suga’s lap. “I really do.”

Fingers run through Miyuki’s hair, and he groans at the unfamiliar but very pleasant sensation of it. “We’ll just have to stick an extra day in the week, then. Just for us.”

Suga lets out a choked laugh. “Definitely.” He shifts so Miyuki’s cheek rests on the softer part of his thigh, earning a hum of approval. “So, when do we tell everybody else there are eight days in the week now?”

“Maybe in the morning.” Miyuki yawns and wraps his arms around Suga’s waist. The warmth of Suga’s lap and a long day at the ballpark conspire against him, and he feels a cloud of sleep descending on him. “Wake me up when gay ice skating comes on, ne?”

“You got it.” Suga leans back, nestling Miyuki even more solidly in his lap, and it’s the last thing Miyuki remembers before he succumbs to exhaustion and an equal measure of contentment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Day 3 of Kazuya Week.

Miyuki awakens to a crick in his neck and the glow of dawn bleeding through the window. Groaning, he cranes himself up to find Suga fast asleep, a faint trickle of drool at the corner of his mouth as he softly wheezes. A smile tugs at his mouth as he pries himself out of Suga’s lap, only for his eyes to fly open as he looks at the clock on the wall above the television, which reads half past five. “I missed it.”

“Whazzat?” Suga murmurs without opening his eyes. He shifts before tugging Miyuki's warm weight back into his lap. “'S early.”

Letting out a drawn-out yawn, Miyuki rubs the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Over the kotatsu, he sees that the television set is dormant, and the remote sits on the tabletop next to the container of cookies. He frowns. “Well, I hope  _ you _ at least got to watch it.”

Suga rakes a hand through his wild hair, sighing heavily, and asks through a loud yawn, “What on earth are you talking about? It's not even six in the morning. Don't make me think at this godawful hour.”

“Yuri on Ice,” Miyuki explains. “You were supposed to wake me up.”

Scoffing, Suga shakes his head before grabbing a loose throw pillow and smacking Miyuki with it. “I  _ tried _ . You grunted something about 'not now, Sawamura’ and went right back to sleep. I thought sleep sounded like a good idea, so I set the DVR to record it and passed out thirty seconds later.”

“Wait, what?” Miyuki sits up and scratches his head. “I don't have DVR.”

“For reasons I fail to understand.” Suga reaches over and plucks his phone from the end table and waves it right under Miyuki's nose. “But I do, and I can set it with an app on my phone.” He lightly swats Miyuki’s cheek with said phone. “So that means if you want to catch up, I get to see you again.”

Miyuki chuckles. “Suga-chan is devious.” However, there is no hint of castigation in his voice as he plops back down onto Suga's extremely comfortable thighs. “G’night, Suga-chan.”

The next time Miyuki awakens, sunlight is barrelling through the open curtains, a warm malaise heralding another long, hot day. But the day will be the best one in a while, because it's his one day off this week, and he can wrap himself up in his new favorite person. He looks up at said person, who is dully flicking through channels with the volume nearly silent as he yawns. “You're alive,” Suga mentions as he settles on a historical documentary about ancient ninjas or something of the sort that Miyuki can't be bothered to discern. 

“What time is it?” He reluctantly pries himself from Suga's lap and stretches his arms. “It's already hot in here, so it has to be almost noon.”

“Half past it, actually.” Suga stretches, digging his fist into Miyuki 's shoulder until he tumbles to the floor. “God, I have to pee.”

As Suga hustles away toward the toilet, Miyuki snatches a couple of cookies from the still-present bowl on the table and hums in pleasure. Warmth that has nothing to do with the latent heat in the room seeps into his limbs, melting him back into the couch cushions as he looks at the closed bathroom door. It’s difficult to believe that this situation is real, that this gorgeous, cookie-making angel is here in his apartment, spending time with him willingly. He tries and fails to remember the last time someone besides himself had even set foot in his place.

Emerging from the restroom, Suga gives Miyuki’s puffed-up cheeks a grin and a laugh. “You look like a raccoon.”

Gulping down his faceful of cookie, Miyuki shoots Suga a smirk and says, “Well, I guess you can call me Miyuki Tanuki.”

Suga coughs a laugh as he ducks back into the bathroom, shutting the door with a loud  _ thwack _ behind him. “Don’t do that, I almost died!” Suga calls through the door. “Stop being cute. It’s gross.”

Miyuki snorts. “Would it surprise you if I said this isn’t the first time I’ve heard that?” He scrapes himself off the floor and leans against the bathroom door. Sighing, he adds soberly, “So, when do you have to go to work?”

The door slides open a crack, showing a sliver of Suga’s face — enough to show a glint in his eye. “I don’t.”

“Excellent.” Opening the door all the way, he tugs Suga to his chest and grins. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Wouldn’t that be lunch?” Suga asks as he leans into Miyuki, their mouths only a breath apart.

“That —” Miyuki pecks a light kiss to Suga’s lips. “— would be semantics.”

Groaning, Suga pushes Miyuki against the wall and presses in for a heated kiss. His breath tastes like Miyuki’s mouthwash, a flavor he’s never particularly cared for until this moment. Suga’s arms loop around the back of his neck, wrenching them even closer together as his teeth lightly sink into the soft flesh of Miyuki’s bottom lip.

They’re both breathless when Suga wrenches away, eyes closed as his fingers drift over his mouth, which is tugging into a soft smile. “I wouldn’t mind doing that a few thousand more times,” he murmurs.

“Consider the invitation open.” Miyuki presses a kiss to Suga’s forehead before heading to the kitchen to piece together a meal for two — the first he’s had the opportunity to make in a long time. 

They eat on the couch, while Suga avidly watches a K-drama he finds and curls into Miyuki's side. Miyuki's fingers absently stroke the warm stretch of Suga's thigh as he tries and fails to figure out what is going on in the show.

“You're bored, aren't you?” Suga asks suddenly. He sighs heavily and cranes his neck to look Miyuki square in the eye. “I'm sorry. I didn't think about it. It's just that I usually watch a lot of TV on my days off because I'm too tired to do anything else, so I tend to have a lot to catch up on.”

Miyuki chuckles and drapes an arm around Suga, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “No worries, Suga-chan. A new show is just a favorite show I haven't met yet.” He turns his attention back to the program. “So, the blond guy is mad at the redhead girk. Why?”

Suga's eyes are alight as he launches into a long-winded explanation of the characters’ back story, losing Miyuki about halfway in, but he is far more interested in Suga's enthusiasm. 

After a few hours of mindless television, Suga turns off the set and drops his chin on Miyuki's shoulder. “Wanna go to my place? I have gay ice skating with your name all over it.”

Miyuki wordlessly follows Suga up to the third floor of the building to 3B, which is trimmed by a cat-shaped doormat. “I think I would know that's yours without being told.”

“Oh?” Suga pulls out his volleyball lanyard and unlocks the door. “Do I really give off the cat lady vibe that much?”

“Nope.” Miyuki drags Suga through the door and slaps it shut behind them. A smirk sliding into place, he adds, “It's the cutest thing here, and so are you.” He leans in, arms snaking around Suga’s waist as he steals a kiss.

Suga groans into his mouth and returns it with fervor, punching the breath out of Miyuki’s chest with the pure greed behind it. Humming in pleasure, Miyuki’s hands slide down the small of Suga’s back and into the pockets of his jeans. Suga’s fingers dig into his chest in reply, making something hot and bright flicker to life in his belly.

As Miyuki begins to heft Suga up against the door, however, he nearly drops Suga’s weight to the floor when he feels something brush up against his shin. Panting as he wrenches his mouth away, he gasps, “What the hell was that?”

But when he looks at Suga in askance, he only finds a wide, doting smile as Suga wriggles out of his grip. “Kuma-chan!” he cries as he drops to his knees and strokes the long, thick fur of the largest cat Miyuki has ever seen on this side of a zoo fence. “Who’s a good boy?”

“The name isn’t even ironic,” Miyuki muses as he kneels to pet the truly bear-sized cat, who lists into his touch as he purrs up a storm. “Hello there, Kuma-chan.” He scratches behind the cat’s ear, earning him a trill of contentment and a happy little lick to the hand.

Suga leans over and bumps his shoulder against Miyuki’s. “He likes you. The last guy I dated needed stitches after Kuma-chan was done with him.”

“Oh?” Miyuki’s lips pull into a contemplative pout. “He seems like the most mellow cat to ever live. What brought that on?”

As soon as his good cheer is there, it’s gone from Suga’s face. “He hit me.”

Miyuki’s jaw drops as he drops to the floor with a dull thud. “I’m sorry, Suga-chan. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine,” Suga answers with a sigh. “It was the first and last chance he got to lay a finger on me.” He runs his fingers through Kuma’s thick, tawny fur over and over as he elaborates. “I made three trips that night. One to drop him off at the hospital, one to the police station to file for a restraining order, and the last to the convenience store to buy Kuma-chan his favorite fish.” 

Suga picks up Kuma and holds the cat to his chest, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. “He’s a good boy.”

Miyuki gapes at Suga as he hugs his cat. Not once in his entire life has the mere idea of striking a romantic partner occurred to him. He knows it’s a thing that happens, but as far as he knows, he doesn’t know anyone who would ever cross that line. At least, he would hope so. Especially not someone as sweet and captivating as Suga, who seems to exude life despite a draining job that forces him to keep strange hours.

Without another word, Suga queues the missed episode on his DVR and starts it. Miyuki can barely keep his attention on it due to the number of times his gaze strays to his right, where Suga watches with a dopey smile glued to his face, fingers absently stroking Kuma, who is draped across his lap.

The end credits start rolling before Miyuki knows it, and he can’t remember more than a few passing events of the episode. Yet he can’t find it in himself to care as Suga trains that luminescent smile on him. “God, they’re so  _ cute _ .”

“They sure are,” Miyuki answers, not entirely referring to Yuuri and Viktor. “Suga-chan?”

“Hmm?” Suga’s brows raise in question, only for them to knit together when he catches onto Miyuki’s intense gaze. “Do I have food on my face?”

Snorting, Miyuki shakes his head. “Not at all. Do you suppose Kuma-chan would forgive me?”

“For what?” Hearing his name, Kuma’s ears perk up as he casts a sideways glance at Miyuki.

“For kicking him out of your lap.”

Suga gives Miyuki a sly smile as he shoos Kuma out of his lap and drags Miyuki over to take his place. Straddling Suga’s thighs, Miyuki growls as he drops a line of ravenous kisses down the side of Suga’s pale neck. His teeth sink into pale flesh when Suga’s fingers dig into the flesh of his backside, earning a hiss that Miyuki isn’t sure is coming from him or from Suga.

“Kazuya?” Suga gasps, leaning to the side to expose more of his shoulder to Miyuki. 

“Mmm?” Miyuki drags his tongue up the length of Suga’s neck before tracing the shell of his ear. With a whisper, he breathes, “What does Suga-chan want?”

Suga shivers beneath him, screwing his eyes shut against Miyuki’s triumphant smirk. “Can we not do this here?” He arches his back and moans. “If I fall asleep on the couch again, I’ll regret it for a week.”

Miyuki throws back his head and laughs. When he finally catches his wind, he says, “You got it, Suga-chan.” He slides his feet to the floor and hauls Suga into his arms in one swift motion. “Now, where were we?”

Together, they stagger into Suga’s bedroom, and Miyuki doesn’t bother fighting off the tide of well-being that promises to wash over both of them as they lose themselves in each other for the first time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Day 7 of #kazuyaweek on Tumblr.

It’s the crack of dawn when Miyuki awakens with his nose buried in Suga’s bare shoulder. Humming in contentment, he throws an arm over Suga’s waist and plants a soft kiss to his bare skin. “G’morning, Suga-chan.”

Suga swings up a hand and slaps at Miyuki’s hand. “It’s not even six. Go back to sleep.”

Miyuki rubs his eyes and fumbles around for his glasses, yawning loudly as he sits up. “‘Fraid not. Today’s an early game. I have to be at the ballpark in two hours.”

“Gross.” Suga rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. “I’d make breakfast,” comes his muffled voice, “but the thought of eating at this time of day is disgusting.”

Reaching over to ruffle Suga’s hair, Miyuki chuckles. “I actually agree. I’ll just grab something in the clubhouse.”

“Mmm.” Suga curls up on his side and casts a sleepy smile in Miyuki’s direction. “When will I see you again?”

Lips quirking up, Miyuki traces a finger along the curve of Suga’s jaw and says, “Soon.”

Suga snares Miyuki’s hand and presses a kiss into his palm. “Not soon enough.”

“Have a good rest of the day, Suga-chan.” Miyuki slides out of bed and seeks out his various articles of clothing scattered about on the floor. By the time he reaches Suga’s front door, he manages to revest himself, yet as he reaches for the door handle, his hand stills. He looks over his shoulder at Suga’s bedroom door, which hangs slightly agape, and his cheeks heat up as he recalls the previous night’s activities. Slick, heated skin on skin, with Suga’s husky voice caressing his ears.

He can’t get downstairs and into a cold shower fast enough.

Miyuki arrives at the ballpark almost an hour early, but he’s not the first one in the clubhouse. On the floor right on top of the Eagles’ logo embedded in the boards is Sawamura Eijun, nose squished into his thigh as his fingers grip his foot for a hurdle stretch.

“Did you do any work yesterday?” Miyuki asks as he drops his bag on the bench closest to his locker. 

Sawamura shakes his head as he straightens. “Nah. Just some BP.”

Miyuki laughs as he changes into his practice uniform. “How did that turn out?”

“Fine!” Sawamura huffs as he resumes stretching. “Just a few near-misses.”

“Bagel?”

“Shut up.” However, there is a smile in Sawamura’s voice as he resumes stretching. “Can we work on the curveball today?” Nodding, Miyuki starts stretching Sawamura’s legs almost all the way to his chest until it draws a squeak of protest. “Mean!”

With a chuckle, Miyuki says, “If you say so.” He switches to Sawamura’s left leg and repeats the motion. “Did you forget to do your cool-downs yesterday? Your muscles are kind of tight.”

Nose wrinkling, Sawamura sticks his tongue out. “Maybe if you didn’t try to rip my legs off.”

“Baby.” Slower this time, Miyuki continues stretching out Sawamura’s legs before moving onto his arms. As Sawamura chatters about his batting session the day before, Miyuki finds himself humming a very familiar tune.

He doesn’t realize Sawamura has stopped talking until he sits up and flicks Miyuki in the forehead. “You’re in a really good mood. It’s kind of creeping me out.”

Miyuki’s hands halt while wrapped around Sawamura’s bicep, brows rising as his lingering smile drifts into a frown. “Is it really that obvious?”

Sawamura shrugs and rolls his shoulder before resuming stretching on his own. “To me it is.” He groans when Miyuki wrenches both arms behind his back. “You must have had a good day off.”

“I . . .” Miyuki pauses, wondering how much he should impart to Sawamura, who is allergic to discretion on the best of days. However, the glow of the night spent with Suga is far too bright to bottle up. “I did. I really did.”

A sly smile smears its way across Sawamura’s face. “You got laid, didn’t you?”

Miyuki chokes on his own air as Sawamura cackles. “What makes you say that?” he wheezes once he catches his breath. 

“Now I  _ know _ it’s true.” Sawamura socks Miyuki in the shoulder and winks. “‘Bout time. You-san was worried you’d be single forever.”

“Ha!” Miyuki shakes his head. “Kuramochi is one to talk. He’s as single as he was in high school.”

Sawamura nods. “Yeah, that’s true. But he’s not Sendai’s most eligible bachelor, either.”

Snorting, Miyuki lets Sawamura think whatever he likes as he mulls over the prospect of it, of dating Suga. Of spending time together and of maybe moving in together down the road for ‘convenience’. And he finds that he doesn’t mind the idea of it at all.

The week flies by as he awaits his next opportunity to see Suga, but Yuri on Ice night comes and goes without his anticipated visitor. Three times, he lingers around Suga’s door, debating whether to knock and see if its occupant is available, but as his fist hovers just below the brass numbers, he steps back and leaves.

What if Suga isn’t interested in a relationship? What if Suga had seen enough of Miyuki to decide that they’re not suited? Or worse, what if he was only after a quick romp from someone who is unlikely to pursue anything deeper?

The thought makes Miyuki shiver as he shuts his own door behind him with far more force than necessary.

A whole month comes and goes without word from Suga, which turns into two and then three. Yuri on Ice’s rerun schedule has long since ended and started over again, but when he reaches the episode when it had all started with singing and rice balls and gorgeous strangers, said beautiful stranger is still nowhere to be found. Miyuki reminds himself that he does have Suga’s phone number, but that is rapidly washed away by the lingering knowledge that Suga has his, too. It takes two to not call or text, and if Suga isn’t willing to break the silence, then maybe it isn’t meant to be broken.

It’s one of his monotonous days off once the off-season starts that sees Miyuki unpacking the brand new DVR sent by the cable company that he decides to take a walk to clear his head. It’s almost nine in the morning and the streets will be filling up with commuters, but with the prospect of spending his entire day off holed up alone like he spends every other day off, he itches for the sliver of humanity the general public affords.

Miyuki is just sliding the keys to the building into his pocket when he turns around, only to freeze in his tracks. Smudges of purple weariness under half-closed eyes droop beneath messy hair and over a dire frown. Rumpled scrubs hang from sagging shoulders, while a cheery volleyball lanyard dangles from limp fingers as its owner fumbles for the key to the door Miyuki has just locked.

If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Miyuki would never believe this dead-eyed stranger is Sugawara Koushi.

“Suga-chan,” he breathes as he takes his own keys and unlocks the door. “Are you all right?”

Suga gives Miyuki a weak smile as he follows him through the door, leaning against it heavily the moment it shuts. “Oh, hi, Kazuya.” His eyes drift shut, the entirety of his weight draped against the wall for support. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I just —” He raises a shaking hand and laces Miyuki’s fingers with his. “I miss you.”

All of Miyuki’s previous concerns about Suga’s interest melt away as he starts to piece together the evidence in front of him. Lack of communication, exhaustion, and coming home from work so late — he wants to kick himself for not thinking about it before. “When did you get moved to nights?”

“A few months ago,” Suga offers as he lurches forward and buries his face in Miyuki’s shoulder. “Three of the night shift regulars quit within a week, and I was the lucky one who got picked to do the work of three people in the middle of the night.” He gives a humorless laugh that morphs into a groan. “I don’t even feel like a person anymore.”

Taken aback by Suga’s bitterness while quietly ashamed by his own petty concerns, Miyuki crushes Suga to his chest in a tight and very uncharacteristic hug. “I’m sorry, Suga-chan.” He pulls away, nocking up Suga’s chin with his forefinger and offering him a hopeful smile. “Let me take care of you, ne?”

Without waiting for an answer, Miyuki shepherds Suga over to the elevator he hasn’t used since the day he moved into the building and commands it to head to the third floor. Inside, Suga curls his arms around Miyuki’s bicep, face buried in the soft material of his hoodie. “Thank you,” he whispers as he hold on a little tighter.

They exit the lift, and Miyuki pries Suga’s keys from his lifeless hands and opens the door. As soon as it shuts behind them, he scoops Suga up into his arms and deposits him gently into the bed where they had made love what seems like a lifetime ago. “I’ll be back.”

With that, Miyuki scouts out loose-fitting pajamas and a glass of water before he returns. He carefully changes Suga’s clothes before offering him the glass, helping him drain it before tucking him under the covers. The fan at the foot of the bed whirrs to life at Miyuki’s behest, drawing a groan of appreciation from Suga. “‘S nice.”

Something warm and tight clenches in Miyuki’s belly as he climbs onto the bed and lies down next to Suga. He plants a kiss on Suga’s cheek. “Go to sleep, Suga-chan. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

It takes mere minutes for Suga to do just that as Miyuki watches the weariness seep from him as he gives into slumber. Even with the marks of exhaustion marring his usually perfect pale skin, Suga is beautiful when he sleeps. Miyuki hadn’t appreciated it the last time they were together, but now with little else to do but listen to the latent noise of the traffic outside, he can’t possibly miss it. Awake, Suga is a stunning human being both inside and out, but something about him in this state is almost angelic and it takes Miyuki’s breath away.

The late November sun is halfway down the horizon when Miyuki is shaken out of a nap of his own by a grinning Suga. “Mornin’, sleepyhead.”

Miyuki grins as he curls his fingers around the back of Suga’s neck and draws him down for a kiss. “Feeling better?” he asks when Suga breaks off to stifle a giggle.

“Am now.” Suga climbs onto Miyuki’s lap, thighs straddling hips as his fingers drag down the expanse of his chest.

He feels warm all over as Suga sets out to show him just how much, and Miyuki starts to think this off-season will be an interesting one, indeed.


End file.
